By Definition
by Trinity Everett
Summary: Sorting through baby things turns a bit serious, then a little bit silly. Caskett, Post-Series Ficlet.


**By Definition**

_A post-series ficlet_

* * *

"Castle, I don't know where we're going to put all of this."

Her husband looks up from his survey of the room. It's a complete mess; boxes of furniture waiting to be assembled line the newly-painted walls, other items large and small are stacked on top of the cardboard, and the obscene number of bags they'd acquired earlier in the day sit in the hallway.

"We can stash some of it in the closet until we put everything together and have more storage space."

Beckett turns to glance at the goods in the hallway, dragging her teeth over her lip. "That'll take care of maybe a third of it. Do we really want to just shove it all in a corner and wait to do anything with it?"

"Well, strictly speaking, we do have to wait to use it," he points out, grinning at her huff. "Not much longer, though," he adds, closing the distance between them and brushing adoring hands over the curve of her belly.

Their daughter kicks at his palm, showing off for her daddy, no doubt.

"You know what I mean," Beckett says. "I don't want piles of bags lying around her room, Rick. Especially since we're having another shower next week and there'll be even more stuff after that."

Rick swipes his thumb across her stomach. "How about this? You pull the rocking chair over and put your feet up while I start putting the furniture together, then we can sort and organize everything."

She nods but counters with her own suggestion, "I'll start sorting while you're doing that. I spent the entire morning having people wait on me; I don't want to do more nothing."

Castle grins, nodding in return. His lips brush hers. "Okay. And, of course, I'll accept all compliments and commentary about how the manual labor I'm doing makes you want me."

She swats at his arm, coming back for another kiss anyway. He's not totally wrong; she does love watching him work. Once they part, he brings her the rocking chair and ottoman while she pulls half of the gifts in from the hallway. He waits until she's settled before carefully pulling the dresser box into the center of the room and going in search of tools.

"God, she's already so spoiled," Kate mutters a little while later, lifting yet another delicately beaded baby dress from a box and eyeing the matching socks still nestled in the tissue paper. "Shoes, clothes, toys. We won't have to buy her anything except for diapers for at least a year."

Rick laughs, shaking his head. "Maybe not, but we will."

She grins, knowing that's the truth. She's been just as bad as he has about impulse-buying for their baby, she can only imagine how much worse it'll get once the girl is here with them.

"Oh! That reminds me," her husband adds, moving the partially assembled dresser frame to the side and getting to his feet. "I have something for you – another present."

"Rick," she groans. "I don't think you need to give me anything else for a while. We're set."

He grins over his shoulder. "You don't have this. Trust me."

Kate rubs a hand over her stomach, lowering her chin to address her daughter as he disappears. "It always makes me nervous when he says that. With your daddy, it could be anything." The baby kicks in response. "Yeah, peanut, you're telling me. Though, the first time he 'surprised' me, it was when he arranged to follow me at work. Then it was the coffee maker at the precinct, and I suppose both of those things turned out reasonably well. Some of his other schemes, though? Not so much."

Castle scoffs from the doorway. "All of my ideas are wonderful, Beckett."

Kate rolls her eyes, leaning back in the chair. "Whatever you say, ideas man. What do you have for me?"

His grin deepens but he gives nothing away as he moves through the minefield that is the nursery and settles on the ottoman beside her crossed ankles, both arms behind his back. Kate lifts a foot, poking his belly with her big toe.

"Come on, gimme."

Castle waves her off, capturing her foot and giving it a squeeze. "I will, I will, but first I want to say something – set the stage, if you will."

She rolls her eyes but gestures for him to go ahead. If he wants to be dramatic, who is she to stand in his way?

"I've had this for longer than I should probably admit. It – well – it's part of a set, of sorts. One we're both familiar with."

"Ri-ick, stop teasing. Whatever it is, just give it to me." She stretches her hand out, palm up, awaiting a onesie with a pithy, likely inappropriate, saying that'll no doubt match the shirts he's bought for each of them.

Instead he hands over a vest that's familiar in shape, but is much, much smaller than regulation. And instead of the expected identifier, just four letters are emblazoned across the chest: _Baby_.

It's sweet and strange, just the right amount of irreverent, and a watery laugh spills from her lips.

"Do you like it?" he asks, leaning in, turning his head to see the gift from her perspective.

Kate nods, bringing the tiny vest close to her chest. It's made of the same ripstop material, but it lacks the weight that their real vests have, which is good.

"I love it," she says, seeing the flash of worry fade from his gaze. "It's ridiculous," she adds, "but I love it."

Castle ducks his head, dropping a kiss on her stomach before reaching for her, pressing his mouth to hers. She returns his kiss, eager and warm, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him close.

"Told you it was part of a set," he murmurs against her mouth. "One for each of us."

Kate nods, looking down at the gift, brushing her fingers over the lettering.

"So how long _have_ you had this?" she asks once he sits back, watching a flush rise to his cheeks. "Castle?"

"A while. Over a year," he admits with an almost-sheepish smile. "Right after you made captain and we started talking about what that might mean for the future."

Her heart jumps into her throat as she hears what he doesn't say. He'd had this made anticipating the day she told him that she was ready to try for kids, a day she had insinuated might be soon, and instead she'd sent their lives into a months-long tailspin of another kind.

"Rick," she tries, pressing her lips together and swallowing hard. They've hashed and rehashed the entire debacle so many times, but never talked about this.

His fingers cover hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Don't. Don't feel guilty about it, Kate. It wasn't the right time, and we made the world a safer place for her in the meantime. I'm okay with that."

She nods, conceding that point. He's right, no matter how bittersweet it might seem right now.

"I have to admit something else," he says, pulling her from her contemplation. Her brow furrows. "I almost gave it to Ryan and Jenny last year."

Her arm tightens around the vest, protective already. "You did? Why?"

"Well, this and a baby lightsaber, which is already in the closet up here, by the way. I wasn't giving up on the idea for us, if that's what you're thinking, I just thought it would be a nice gesture, a way of passing luck to someone else. Mother and Alexis overruled me and bought a different gift, and I'm glad they did."

She tilts her head. "Me too. Not that I think Kevin and Jenny wouldn't have appreciated it, but…"

He nods, brushing a careful hand along her arm. "Yeah, I think so, too."

"Though I'm a little concerned about you regifting our child's things," she teases, clearing the huskiness from her throat, eager to shed the heaviness that's come to rest on their shoulders.

Castle gapes. "I do _not_ regift. I have never regifted."

"The fact that you almost gave it away says otherwise." Her lips lift.

"Ah, but to _re_gift, it has to be given to you. And since it wasn't, by definition, it can't be regifted."

"What about the intention?" she challenges. "If the gift was originally intended for one person and you attempt to give it to someone else, does that not constitute a regift?"

Rick grins, curling his fingers around hers. "It was always intended for you, sweetheart. Thus, not a regift by that definition either."

She shakes her head, pulling him in and stealing an insistent kiss from his lips.

"Kind of a regift," she says against his mouth, nipping at his upper lip. "But I love it anyway. And we won't tell her you almost gave it to Nicholas first."

Her husband laughs as her daughter kicks in what she can only assume is agreement.

* * *

_Based on a prompt from anonymous: "__Rob Kyker posted a photo on twitter on Dec 5, 2016 of a mini vest with the word "BABY" on it. I'd like to submit a prompt request for it. Thanks!"_

_To see the Baby Vest, check out the photo for this story. __Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this little ficlet._


End file.
